


It's Nice to Finally Meet You

by dramabeansoup



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But not explicit, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just want them all to be happy, Multi, Some Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, build up fic, snuggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramabeansoup/pseuds/dramabeansoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was born with all of his soul marks. Merritt was born with none. Henley grew up loved, but Daniel grew up lonely. It was hard for them all, at different points, but the important part was that they mattered to each other. Even if they didn't know it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

> or the soulmate au that no one asked for and I felt compelled to write anyway. I'm sorry.

_“Seriously?”_ Jack swears under his breath as he rounds another corner. These guys have been chasing him for _miles_ now, are they track runners or something? Jack wants to laugh a little bit, but considering the fact that one, it would sound slightly hysterical, and two, he has no breath leftover to laugh with, its going to have to wait until he gets somewhere safer.

Jack tries to loop back on them, but at this point they’re gaining on him, and he’s losing speed. If there were just two of them he could totally take them, but three is pushing it, even for him. He starts checking alleys as he goes by, looking for a place to hide. There’s a corner coming up, if he can just make it– there!

His knuckles scrape the brick as he skids a little, but there’s an opening to an alley right there… and there’s a guy. Just great. What’s he going to do with him? Jack makes a split second decision and grabs the man’s arm, hauling him with him into the alley.

They guy opens his mouth, a noise of complaint already started, but Jack claps a hand to his lips, arm pinned across the guy’s shoulders. Footsteps echo as the gang runs by, and Jack counts to ten before stepping back with a sigh of relief.

The other guy is not so happy.

“What the _hell_ was that all about?” Jack turns, an answer on his lips, and freezes. He knows that face. And boy, is he angry.

“Do you do this often, to people? Just grab them and slam them into walls? It’s not very polite, frankly, especially when you make them late to important things, like, oh, I don’t know, shows.” The guy doesn’t seem to notice that Jack is completely speechless, mouth wide open and eyes shocked.

The man straightens his jacket, patting down his hair. With a final glare at Jack, he stalks out of the alley, nose in the air.

Jack stands there gaping for a second, before letting out an extremely belated squawk of _“What?”_

When his laughter finally catches up with him a few blocks later, it comes out more like a sob.

____________________________

Jack was born with three names on his body, and by the time he was six he had them all memorized. When his mom would yell at his dad, drunk and angry at the world, Jack would hunker down in his closet and press his hands to his Names, repeating them over and over until he found a rhythm to breathe to.

Wrist. _Henley Reeves._

Left ribs. _J. Daniel Atlas_

Collarbone. _Merritt McKinney._

His dad had gone through them with him, every day until he could say them himself.

“These people will love you, champ. They will love you forever and you won’t be able to help but love them too.” His dad’s eyes had been sad, the words _John Phillips_ etched onto the back of his right hand in faded gray. Once Jack had asked his dad about him.

“He was my soulmate. He died a long time ago.” Jack had promised himself that he would never let his soulmates die. If they were anywhere near as important to him as John had been to dad, then they were probably the best people on the planet.

 ____________________________________

The guys were hooting at the computer in the corner.

“Hey, Jack, you gotta come check this guy out. He’s got some crazy magic skills, man,” Jack dropped his backpack at the door, slouching over with his hands in his pockets as he wandered closer to where the other foster kids were crowded.

The guy on screen cut a girl in half. Then he made a dollar bill come out of a lemon, had a girl pick a card that later showed up in someone else’s pocket, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke and ash.

Jack was spellbound. “Who _is_ that guy?” he wondered.

George squinted at the screen. Jack rolled his eyes; the guy should really have his glasses on. “Uh… says here his name is… Atlas. J Daniel Atlas.”

Jack froze. His hand immediately drifted to his side, cradling the name that itched along his ribs. George caught his panicked look and dragged him into their room, shutting the door gently behind them.

The other fourteen-year-old perched on the bed, arms locked around his bony knees as he gave the best imitation of their foster-mom’s staredown. “Spill.”

Jack just wordlessly pulled his shirt off over his head. George sucked in a breath. “You’ve got _two_ soulmates? Lucky!” Jack just grinned and pulled his thick leather bracelet back from his wrist. George whistled.

“What are you going to do?” George asked. “That guy has to be… at least a decade older than you.”

“They’re all older than me,” Jack commented absentmindedly. “I was born with all of my names.”

“Lucky,” George said again, wistfully. He didn’t have any names yet. There was a moment of silence as both boys began to pull out their homework, knowing that it had to be mostly done by dinner or Mrs. Rothborne wouldn’t let them have dessert. And tonight was apple pie.

“So,” George started again, “What are you going to do?”

Jack chewed on the end of his pencil. “I guess I’m going to learn some magic.”

“There’s a few books at the library at school,” George offered tentatively.

Jack grinned. “Perfect.”

 ______________________________________

The first few times Jack tried to pull a wallet out of someone’s pocket, he got caught. But desperation was a strong motivator, and after two weeks of handouts and a dwindling cash supply, Jack got better. He found that magic was a great distraction when you were trying to get money from people.

As he threw yet another card at the leaves hanging over his head, he scanned the audience for potential victims. There were a couple of tourists, some bored mothers with toddlers, couples who had stopped along the way… ah ha! There. Nice coat, hat on his head, looking furious and lost… the guy looked distracted enough that he wouldn’t notice Jack at all.

As Jack ended the show, he knelt to hand the kiddos a few cards, show them how to flick their wrists to throw them. The mothers beamed at him, and he gave his best grin. He started to edge his way towards the man, pretending to actually converse with people on the way. He bowed once more, spinning around and sliding into the mans space…

Only for an arm to dart out and grab his wrist as soon as he got close. The man dragged him around the corner, out of sight of the crowd. Jack found himself with his back to a tree, pinned with an arm and a glare from harsh, tired eyes.

“Look, kid, I’m going to cut you some slack because you look like you could use it.” Jack made a noise of protest. He knew he didn’t look his best, but the showers at the community center he usually went to had been busy lately, so he hadn’t had a chance to get clean. Then the man started speaking, and Jack found that the entire world got hazy. Just as he was about to walk away, although he couldn’t remember why, a bicycle whizzed right behind the guy, causing him to let out a yelp. Everything came flooding back, and Jack felt himself get angry. Did this guy just try to hypnotize him?

Jack punched the guy in the shoulder, just to get him to back up a little, and was falling into a crouch to defend himself when the guy raised a hand again, looking like he was about to give the hypnotism another go… but Jack flinched. No one had hit him since his mom went away, but sometimes when he was tired, or hungry, or both, he would fall back on instincts. He put his arms up to protect his head, scrunching his body closer to the ground.

The guy froze, before a look of horror spread over his face. He mumbled an apology before stumbling over to a bench, looking like he was preparing himself for a breakdown.

“Um…” Jack stepped closer to the man. “I’m sorry.” _Come on, man, what are you doing?_ Jack didn’t normally try to confront his victims, especially after he had failed to get anything. _Especially_ after this guy had tried to… what, hijack his brain? But he looked so lonely and tired… Jack thought for a second, before holding out his hand to shake.

“No hard feelings?” He grinned his brightest smile.

The man eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but took it with a muttered, _eh, what the hell._ As soon as their palms touched, Jack slid a card through the other mans fingers. Maybe his ‘business card’, as Jack liked to call them, could cheer him up.

He walked off whistling, completely oblivious to the way the man looked after him in shock as he slipped away.

 _____________________________________

“Jack!”

Someone was calling his name.

“Jack Wilder!”

He turned. “George!” His face broke into a grin. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” He hadn’t seen George in years; when they’d tried to push Jack into another foster home, he’d ditched the system, leaving behind his friend.

George walked up and gave him a surprisingly strong hug; the guy had always been scrawny. After a few manly back pats, they separated, but George was clearly happy to see his old friend.

“It’s really good to see you, man. After you left, we all worried about you. What happened?” Jack neatly evaded the question, asking after what had gone down in the home after he’d left, what George was doing with his life.

George rolled up his sleeve to the elbow, showing Jack a name, _Jessica Rigby,_ scrawled messily along his forearm. Jack smiled at his friend. This was what George had always wanted.

“Hey, have you found any of your Names yet?” Jack shook his head ruefully. He’d seen Danny a few more times, a couple at some shows of his, but the other two remained a mystery.

“Well, keep looking man, you deserve it.” They talked for a few more minutes, exchanging numbers and promising to call. Then Jack begged off getting a drink together, insisting that he had to get back to work.

As Jack headed off for his next target, a ferry full of naïve tourists, his step was a little lighter.

 ____________________________________

He stared at the card in his hands. How had someone slipped it into his pocket? He really wanted to meet them.

It had been years since anything interesting had happened to him. There had been that incident on the subway, where he had saved a girl from getting kidnapped, and then there was the time he won a weeks worth of free meals at a Chinese restaurant for catching the guy counting cards a poker. But this was something different, Jack could feel it in his bones.

_Death._ The skull stared up at him from the card, grinning in a terrible kind of way. That sounded way more ominous than a small piece of cardstock had any right to be. Flipping it over, he smirked at the back. Some kind of meet up? He shrugged to himself. He didn’t have any other plans for that day. Might as well.

Slipping the card into his pocket, Jack adjusted his coat on his shoulders. He had some more work to do before he could call it a day.

 ___________________________________

“Dad, d-dad, please don’t leave me,” Jack sobbed from where he sat next to his dad on the kitchen floor.

His dad cradled his face between his big, strong hands. They could hear sirens in the distance, but they both knew Jack’s dad wasn’t going to make it.  
  
“Hey…. Champ,” His dad panted. “It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be fine.” He tapped Jack’s collarbone, right over his soulmark.

“Remember, these people will love you. I love you. You’re gonna be just fine.” Jack whimpered as he pressed his hands harder over the stab wound on his dad’s shoulder.

“But I want you there, dad, you promised you’d be there!” Jack wanted to scream, but his mom was still yelling in the other room, promising more harm to anyone who dared to make another noise.

“I promised I’d try,” his dad’s face twisted into a wry smile, devoid of humor. “I always promised I’d try.” Jack knew they weren’t talking about him anymore, and he wanted to cry even more.

There was a moment of tension, his dad’s breath labored and wet sounding. Then he tried to sit up in a sudden surge of energy.  
  
“ _Promise, Jack, swear to me you’ll keep Yours safe,”_ Jack gasped, terrified, but as his dad collapsed again, he begged as hard as he could.

“I promise, dad, I promise on my life! I’ll die before they get hurt, I will, just stay with me!” He was screaming now, and his mom was moving in, but then the police were there, and an ambulance, and everything faded to black.


	2. The Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny loves, fiercely and totally. You wouldn't know it if you didn't watch him perform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was really hard to write, for some reason. I had a hard time getting into Danny's head. I hope I did him justice!

Danny's mom is beautiful. She has high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes, and strong, gentle fingers that are quick when she deals out a game of go-fish. 

"Next time, Danny-boy," she says every time he loses, "remember that the closer you look the less you see. The big picture is important." And then she corrects his strategy and deals again. 

She teaches Danny his first card trick when he is six years old. His fingers are short (he can barely shuffle the cards) and clumsy, but the first time he gets it right she smiles and laughs, with that bright spark in her eyes and he feels something inside him spark in response. 

This is the first time Danny falls in love with magic, but there are many more after it. His mom takes him to a street show, and he is seven and excited, but his mom is too. He watches her, that evening, and in her face is a type of joy and wonder that he wants to see every day.

He goes out the next day and buys his first magic book. 

_____________

He is eighteen and brilliant and frustrated with it. Every class is easy, and he sits, bored, shuffling cards endlessly through his fingers. He applies to college and gets in, to Yale of all places, on a full ride. He goes for business, because it seems the most useful. He pays for his rent and food with money earned from magic tricks, playing in seedy dive bars and street corners. 

In his sophomore year, his father passes away. It's not a surprise, and his step-mom and little sister had long since left him to his drinking in peace, but the funeral is somber. Not many people come. Danny teaches his little sister how to play go fish, and tells her not to look too closely. She looks at him with wide eyes full of joy, and the next semester Danny drops out of college to pursue magic full time. 

_____________

Danny was born with one mark wrapped around his hip. There is no way to tell how much older than him the mark is, and Danny doesn't really care. It becomes a habit, when things are tough, to put his hand over this mark, not the others, and wish with all his might that he will meet him soon. Merritt McKinney seems like an interesting person. 

The one on his ankle spells out Jack Wilder in scrawling, restless type. Danny covers it with socks and pants legs, and even a small leather band. These Names are his, and his alone. He won't let anyone see them until the people themselves are at his side. 

He meets Henley Reeves, wrapped around his right bicep, at one of his magic shows. HIs assistant has just quit, saying that he's too hard to work with, and he sees her in the crowd, fiery red hair and hopeful eyes drawing him in. When she tells him her name, holds out a hand to shake his, he bypasses it completely to wrap her into a hug. He has been alone for so long (ten years) that the sudden appearance of one meant for him shakes him to the carefully-protected core. 

_____________

Danny has a necklace. His mom got it for him, when he was born. She strings a pendant on it, blue sapphire and sterling silver, all sharp lines and cutting edges. 

Danny's mother is a believer in the spiritual side of Names; the power they have and the senses you feel from those whose soul is linked to yours forever. 

When Danny's second name appears exactly one year and three months after he is born, she goes to a jeweler and commissions a ruby, half raw and set in swirling gold like fire. 

She dies when he is seven and a half and he is tired. His father drinks all the time. It had been sudden; a stroke, the doctors said. There was nothing that could have been done. 

One day, soon after, his dad brings home a woman. She has a ring on her finger, and Danny wants to be angry, but she is kind, so kind. She holds his hand when he cries, and tells him to call her Sharon. 

When a third name appears, wrapped around his ankle like a shackle, he goes to her with fearful eyes and explains the necklace to her. 

She takes him out the next day, to the same jeweler his mom had gone to, and it's not the same. Danny is eight years old and grieving, so he picks out obsidian, fragile like glass, and cages it in stainless steel. 

It feels right, hanging beside the others under his shirt. 

___________

He's late. 

Danny is never late, and he's walking quickly down a deserted back road, a shortcut, trying to make it to the show in ten minutes he's got. Just as he's calculated it down to the last step, he hears feet pounding behind him. They come closer, and Danny steps to the side to let the person pass, when a hand grabs his arm and hauls him into a dark alley. 

Just great, now I'm going to be mugged, he thinks, and he opens his mouth to talk, to convince and deceive and trick, but the guy doesn't even hesitate to slap a hand over his mouth. 

Danny gets angry, but then he gets a good look at the guy, and he's beautiful, dark eyes, and dark hair, a leather jacket over strong shoulders. His eyes are bright, laughing, as footsteps hurry past the alley. When he steps back, he looks so joyful and confident that Danny is momentarily stunned. 

Then his watch beeps at him, five minutes to go, and Danny is angry again. He yells at the guy, not noticing the awed and terrified look the man is giving him, before stalking off and jogging so he can make it to his show. 

Before he falls asleep that night, the man's face plays in his mind over and over again.

____________

Danny is twenty-two, and Henley is twenty-one and bright eyed. She somehow can always make him laugh, and balances his control with her spontaneity. 

For awhile, they work perfectly together. On stage they are flawless, working around and with each other perfectly in sync, as if this is what was meant to be. At night, they talk and talk and talk, telling each other about themselves. They have the same names, which is comforting, and they speculate on who the others could be. 

It falls apart ten months in. 

He has been alone for almost all his life, and she needs things that he had no idea how to recognize in another person. They yell at each other, and at first they can recover. Henley will brush a hand over her name on his arm, and he will bury his face in her shoulder, and they will apologize. 

It is the night of the anniversary of his mom's death when she leaves. He has been angry all day, lost and confused, and she reaches out to him, holds his hands, and explains why she has to leave. He clutches them like a lifeline, listening to her words. 

We can't, this wasn't meant, we need the others, her explanation is halting, but thorough. She has thought this out for awhile. He nods along, grief and love echoing in his chest. He has so much love to give, has loved all three of them for so long, that trying to give it all to Henley has scared her away. 

She dries his tears, gives him her new address, tells him to visit. 

He does. 

______________ 

"You've gotta play the long game, Daniel," his stepmom tells him, as he explains how he wants to go to college, to learn.  

"The closer you look, the less you see," his mother whispers, years and weeks away from death but loving him all the while. 

"We will find them, Danny," says Henley as she walks out the door. 

He finds a card, in his back pocket. It mocks him, the Lover, and he laughs. He has never been allowed to love something for long, only in bits and pieces. 

But his Names, they wrap him in hope, promising that once they find him, they will never leave. He tucks the card back into his pocket, squares his shoulders, and puts on a show. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll have another chapter out by next week? Maybe Merritt next, if I can get it together.


	3. The Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt doesn't want to be alone. That's just how it happens. He has hope though, but not a lot of money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard. I'm sorry for the wait! I hope you guys like it. I feel like my style changes every chapter, but I think the characters call for different voices. Sorry if it's weird. Enjoy!

 

 

“Why? Why couldn’t you be just like everyone else, and have the common decency to only have one soulmate? Why do you have to be so damn _selfish_?” 

 

Merritt reels back from his brother’s angry, spitting face, hurt as much by the words as the kick to the side of his knee. He stares at his brother, astonished. 

 

“Chase?” His voice shakes a little, raw. “What are you talking about?” 

 

Chase just snarls, shoving a flier into his hands. It’s the ones he’d had printed up when Chase got sick last week; just him, not Chase. There weren’t a lot of them, but some of them were still floating around. It had been kind of nice to work alone, having all of the attention on him and not split between two people. Merritt had missed his brother though. 

 

  
_Chase is just angry,_ Merritt thinks desperately, _he doesn’t have any soulmates yet._ He knows that’s not everything, though. Chase is upset because he’s been sick, and the doctors had said that one of the side effects of his disease is that he’ll never have a soulmate. Chase is hurt, and upset, and Merritt had liked working alone. 

 

“Chase!” Merritt yells. “I’m not going to leave you, you idiot. You’re my brother!” 

 

Chase backs up, straightening his spine and tilting his chin condescendingly. “No, you’re not,” he says coldly. “Because I’m leaving you first. But don’t worry, I’ll bring something to remember you by.” 

 

_______________________

 

Merritt didn’t have any soulmates until age eighteen. 

 

He got bullied mercilessly for it as a kid, shoved and belittled and spit on for something that was out of his control. Chase tried to protect him as much as he could, but there was only so much you could do when you yourself didn't have a soulmate. As a kid, Merritt tried to blend in, but as he grew older, he found that trying to be invisible was impossible. 

 

So he fought back. 

 

When the bullies cornered him, he parroted back their fears, pulling from veiled flinches and the teacher's notes he had broken into. It became easier; the more he looked the more he learned to recognize. He could read people, see their fears and hopes and abilities shining from their bruises and eyes. He practiced and he read, learning how to hypnotize them as well. By the time he was in high school, people steered clear of him out of fear and looked for him out of curiosity. Chase learned alongside him, developing complementary skills so they could put on shows together. 

 

It wasn't a perfect existence, but it worked for them. 

 

Then, when Merritt is a senior in high school, he wakes in the middle of the night for no reason that he can tell. It's quiet; no cars and no crickets on their suburban street. Then there comes a burning on his right thigh, and a warmth that explodes from inside, feeling like a hot bath and a cool breeze at the same time. Something settles in his chest and he gives a small sigh, feeling content for the first time in a long time. He's just drifting off to sleep when he realizes what this means. 

 

He sits up with a yelp, scrambling for the lamp next to his bed and nearly knocking it over in his haste to turn it on. yanking down his sweatpants, he stares at the writing on his leg, slightly red around the edges as all soul marks are in the beginning. Be brushes his fingers over it reverently, already committing the name to memory. 

 

_J Daniel Atlas._

Merritt laughs a little, because how pretentious can you get? He doesn't move for awhile, just staring down at the name in awe. If his face is wet from tears he will never admit to crying, no one is around to see. 

 

________________

Merritt has nothing left. Chase took it all; his money, his reputation, and somehow left some kind of paper trail convicting him in a crime he never committed. 

 

So now, Merritt's sitting in a cold cell, with only the clothes on his back and whatever's left in the apartment they used to share, and he's facing charges for stealing a car that he's never seen, and assault of an officer that's never seen him. He knows that, logically, they don't have anything to use against him, but he's been here for going on eight hours now and no one's even come to ask him any questions. He thumps his head down on the cold table with a groan. 

 

_This is not how I was expecting my week to go._

He automatically starts rubbing his palm along the name on his thigh, and can't help but smile a bit at the memory of the one along his shoulder blade. _Henley Reeves,_ he remembers. He kind of dozes off a little after that. It's been a stressful few days, what can he say? 

 

He's awakened sometime later by a hand on his shoulder. 

 

"Son?" It's a police officer, kindly face and gray hair. "I'm sorry about the wait," he says, as if apologizing for not taking his order at a restaurant. "We had a big drug bust after you came in, and I have to say we kind of forgot about you in here." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, smiling a little. Merritt just nods. 

 

The cop sits down across from him, sliding a hot mug of coffee to him. Merritt wraps his hands around the ceramic, curling his body around it as if trying to ward off the chill of the last several days. The cop just watches him carefully. 

 

Finally he puts a file on the table. "Merritt McKinney, age 26, male, charged with petty theft." Merritt's head comes up at that. 

 

"What?" 

 

"Son, you look like you've had a rough few days, and if what you say is to be believed, then it's not going to get much easier. The assault charges have been dropped, and the car theft was obviously not you. But we have you stealing from a grocery store in town, and I've gotta do something about it or the manager will have my head." 

 

Merritt nods. He'd just been so _hungry._ He's got no money, no home, really, and he's tired. Something of his hopelessness must show in his face, because the cop just looks at him kindly from across the table. 

 

"Tell you what," the man says. "I'm gonna let you off lightly. Two months of community service. We'll get you set up with Linda at the front desk before you leave. Now," he leans forward. "Is there anyone you need to call?" 

 

Merritt is shaking his head before he even finishes the question. His mom died five years ago; Chase abandoned him. His little siblings are all with their aunt and uncle, who had refused to take the two older ones in. He's got no one. 

 

"I see," the cop says softly. He escorts Merritt to the front desk, leaving him with a stern older woman who takes his information down and gives him the details of his service to be completed. When that's done, Merritt makes his way to the front doors. Stepping out into the cold, he pulls his jacket tighter around his front. Despair hits him like a freight train, and he leans against the brick wall of the precinct, gasping into his hands as tears begin to roll down his face. 

 

He's alone, all alone. 

 

A burst of warmth hits him then, familiar enough even though he's only felt it twice before. A slight burning encircles his left wrist, and he yanks his sleeve up frantically. There, on his wrist, are now the words _Jack Wilder._ He gives a hysterical laugh. It just figures that just when he was lowest, someone else is born to love him. 

 

"Son?" its the police officer from before, looking at him in concern. Merritt must look deranged; he's wearing clothes completely unfit for the weather, tears on his face, and something like hope curling in his chest. Seeing the way he's cradling his wrist protectively, the officer smiles. 

 

"Do you have anywhere to go?" he asks. 

 

"No," Merritt says honestly. 

 

The officer motions him over to a truck parked nearby, and Merritt is too tired to argue. They drive to the outskirts of the city, lights sparkling in the distance. Merritt trails the man, now known as Officer Samuels, up the stairs to an apartment. He steers him through a door, taking his coat off and hanging it for him. 

 

"Robert?" a voice calls from a distance. 

 

"It's me!" The man says, smiling. There's a thump, and then two sets of footsteps hurry in. A woman, greying hair pulled into a messy bun, and a man rush Officer Samuels and hug him, each planting a kiss on his cheek. He laughs, before putting an arm around them and turning to introduce them to Merritt. Before he can say anything, though, the tiny woman comes over and takes his arm. 

 

"Oh Robert," she says, "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Robert rolls his eyes, but the man next to him is looking at him fondly. 

 

"He didn't have anywhere else to go," Robert grumbles. His dark skin is flushed red. 

 

"I'm Veronica," she says. "That's Sergio, and of course Robert." Merritt opens his mouth to introduce himself, but instead lets out a sneeze. Veronica shoots a glare at the other two, and then somehow Merritt finds himself on a couch, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of hot tea in his hands. He blinks, bewildered, and looks up to find Sergio laughing at him from an armchair. 

 

"Yeah, for a tiny Asian woman she sure moves fast, huh?" 

 

"Watch it!" Comes a voice from what Merritt assumes is the kitchen. "We may be soulmates but that doesn't mean I won't strangle you!" 

 

"You love me!" Sergio calls back. 

 

"Yes I do, God help me," she mutters under her breath. 

 

Merritt furrows his brow. "You guys are all soulmates?" he guesses. 

 

"Yes, dearie," then steel enters her face. "Will that be a problem?" 

 

Merritt shakes his head frantically. "I have three Names." A smile breaks out on his face. "One's a few hours old," he says. 

 

"Oh, how exciting!" Veronica gushes. "We should celebrate!" 

 

Apparently, celebrating means making a cake and talking long into the night. Merritt finds himself showered, pajamaed, and into a bed before two though, again without knowing how it happened. He sighs, rolling into a pillow and falling asleep almost instantly. 

 

______________________

 

Merritt lives with the Samuels for six months. It would have been less, but Sergio, the pushover, had insisted that he stay until he got his feet back under him. They come to as many of his street shows as they can, laughing with him after at the hilarious things that he makes people do. It's almost like having a family again. 

 

Merritt keeps himself away from other people, though. He doesn't know who to trust, because he was fifteen and desperate, and then he was twenty-two and famous, twenty-six and broke and helpless and distrustful. He builds himself back into a magician with hard work and failed attempts at learning new things, and one day he finds himself paranoid in a park, near a young magician while Robert talks into the phone about how they found Chase trying to steal from him again. 

 

Merritt curses his brother. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? It wasn't enough to take everything the first time? 

 

"He didn't get away with everything, son," Robert says. "About half of it though." Merritt growls in rage. 

 

"Come home," Sergio says in the background. 

 

"I'll be there in a few days." Merritt hangs up the phone in exasperation. He turns to leave, seeing that the kid has finished his show and is showing little kids how to do some tricks. As Merritt starts to walk, the kid turns into his path, bumping into him in a manner too practiced to be an accident. Merritt grabs his wrist before he can get to his wallet, grabbing the back of his coat and dragging him around the corner. 

 

He shoves him up against a tree, anger suddenly coursing through him. How dare this kid, this amateur, try to steal from him? Today of all days, why would anyone try that. He spits some words at the kid, before raising a hand and starting to pull him into a dream state. A bicycle clips his back though, breaking his concentration, and the kid gives him a surprisingly strong punch to the shoulder, causing him to step back a little. 

 

Merritt raises his hand again, frustration rising even as the child crouches to defend himself, but then he _flinches._ And Merritt freezes, taking him in for the first time. He's wearing clothes that are thin from too many washings, but his hair is dirty and his face has some grease on it. He's thin, short and lean and Merritt can see the light of hungry fear in his eyes. He must be living on the streets, but he's so young. Despite that, he looks confident, as if he can take care of himself. His dark eyes are watchful, face handsome despite it's almost skeletal thinness. 

 

  
_What am I doing?_ Merritt thinks, stumbling to a bench. _Taking it out on random kids who have it hard enough. God, pull yourself together._ He takes a few deep breaths, but they catch in his chest. Hasn't he been through enough? The kid steps hesitantly forward. 

 

"Um..." he bites his lip. "I'm sorry." Merritt almost laughs, because why is he apologizing to _him?_ Merritt should be apologizing. But then the kid is holding out his hand to shake, and it's really the least Merritt can do, so he reaches out, shaking his head when the kid walks away whistling. He goes to move, but there's something in his hand. 

 

It's a Jack of hearts, and scribbled on the back in messy, familiar handwriting is the name _Jack Wilder._ Merritt gapes at it, and then stares after the kid, just as he vanishes around the corner. Merritt sits for a few minutes more, wallowing in self pity, then hauls himself to his feet. He's gotta get back to New Orleans in a few days, he might as well see if he can find the kid again. 

 

He doesn't have any luck, but Veronica is nearly in conniptions with excitement when he tells her. 

 

  
_______________________

 

Merritt is forty-two, and he's only met one of his soulmates, and not for any length of time. He despairs sometimes, but he can somehow feel that the time for them all to meet is coming soon. In the meantime, he stays close to the Samuels. They're getting older, and sometimes they need his help to get stuff done. Sergio always makes him pie in thanks. 

 

He stays in New Orleans, doing shows on street corners and the occasional bar. Other musicians offer to let him help them, ask him to eat with them, drink with them, get to know him, but he turns them down gently. He works alone.

 

He also can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for the right people. 

 

One day, a rainy day, he cons several rich tourists out of all of their cash, shaming them for their sins in the process. Disgusting cheaters. As he packs up for the day, he finds a card. 

 

  
_The Hermit._ He chuckles. 

 

Flipping it over, he reads the back and feels the ground shift without actually moving.  _This is it,_ he thinks. He knows this is when he stops working alone, but he knows it's going to be hard. He doesn't trust easy. 

 

He starts walking home, thinking about what to do. He goes to Robert eventually. 

 

"Son," Robert says, sandwiched between the other two on the couch. "You need to go." 

 

"I know, but-" Merritt trails off. He's scared, but emotions are stupid; he doesn't know how to handle them. 

 

"Veronica would say that it's time you do something with your life." Sergio says. They look at the woman in question, who's curled into a ball under a blanket, snoring softly. She sleeps a lot recently. 

 

"Yeah," Merritt says. "Ok." He stands up, squaring his shoulders. 

 

"Go get 'em, tiger." Sergio grins. 

 

"If you need anything, call," Robert says firmly. 

 

"You got it, Pops," Merritt says with a sloppy salute. He's got a future to attend to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on family vacation next week, so the next update might be awhile! Thanks you guys, you rock!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know who I'm doing next, but it should be uploaded within the next week and a half! Hope you guys liked it.


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